August

by Alessandra Salviani about a month ago in europe

A European dream.

August

How do you explain what home is when home is not just in one place? How do you warm up your heart when it is scattered across oceans? As a woman of no rooted purpose, my seedlings are embedded in the soils of the places that make me most happy. And it is in those places I choose to flourish. To surrender to the likeness of any weather and abide by the nourishment that I am given from the people who walk into my life.

I came to the British land with tears in my eyes. An overwhelming proudness that a frail me could never appreciate. I was embarking on a journey on my own. Taking change with no regrets, following the intuition that was pulling me here. I settled in sweetly with copious amounts of wine, leading me either closer to forgetfulness or closer to humorous memories that only the youth can hold onto with acceptance. The young souls whom I met unexpectedly spoke to me softly and made me feel worthy of a place without the fear of what once brought me here.

Celebration upon celebration, more and more was I surrounded by strangers who became closer to a new family. A lover's kiss swept me off my feet to a powdered dream. Close to dawn, we were parading the house with our wild noise and laughter. To then a day of needed rest, admiring the likes of our childhood magic, the boy with the lightening bolt on his forehead.

A spontaneous flight to another place created a rebirth of gifted memories. Despite the reason of what founded my longing to return to the city of love I created a much greater attachment. Travelling along the streets of Paris on a scooter at dusk, the warm summer breeze flowing through strands of my hair as I smiled at the iron balconies and tiny bakeries. The Eiffel became one of my favourite places. A sweet reunion with the renowned monument of Paris, admired by my glistening eyes. Glittering as the sun sets, followed by every hour. On the becoming sunrise of the next day, I took myself to a further place. A mountain decorated with a grand establishment overlooking the city. A purchase of a red dress, the colour of my cheeks when I blush, became certain, as I strolled aimlessly, with no destination in mind. The bittersweet sway of the wanderer who longs to absorb everything she can in her heart.

Another island of culture, one of my blood. Italy, the country of such beauty and history. Not one can quite comprehend what was felt with every sunset and every blue ocean touched. The city of Naples, where I reconnected with an old friend. Holding onto his shoulders as we travelled along the coast on his fathers scooter. Day by day, my skin got darker and my heart got lighter. I was surrendering my body to the foods that I feared and embracing the present reality of where I was. The coastal dream, full of lemons and herbs, blue waters and orange umbrellas, houses on mountains and boats by the sea. I was free here. and I was happy. My god was I happy.

The return was saddened by my departure from the Italian world that I so desperately loved but came to the realignment of the new people I had in my life back in London. More drugs, more drinks, more wild times—but also special moments. Helping a new lover of mine move into his home. Laughing with friends 'til the early hours until we couldn't walk straight. Painting and guitar playing before a British feed. A cheese and wine night full of polaroids and banter.

My angels, I called to you before I left home for answers. And also for a new life. And I have received more treasures than I can count—the hidden smile under this dreamers eye, a golden aura yet to reawaken to her most true beauty. Now we greet September and I cannot deny that spring is here. And while my heart is gentle from the bittersweet departure, I know that I am on the right path as I can work towards what I so deeply desire. The reunions that will occur without question will be so sweet and endearing. All the stories to share and the visuality of the pressing months depending on the season. The growing of age as we endure our existence. The gift and wanders of life at our fingertips.

My dearest August, you were so beautiful to me. And now I welcome the coming journey of the months ahead.

Sincerely yours, my darling, the little dreamer who writes with her heart.

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Alessandra Salviani

i am an aspiring writer, creator and dreamer. i have a vision on sharing my work with the world, of moving souls with words and creative art. a movement. a story. an evolution. 

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